"Wait, then." The note ran thus: "Your majesty, my dearly-beloved brother: The bearer, Johann Wolfgang Goethe, one of the literati, and a poet, and at this time secretary of legation to the duchy of Saxe-Weimar, is a great favorite of the duke's, our nephew. I met him returning from the parade in company with the duke, who expressed to me the strong desire his secretary had to visit the celebrated house of the great philosopher of Sans-Souci, and see the room once occupied by Voltaire. I could not well refuse, and therefore address these few lines to your majesty before returning to Berlin with the duke, who will dine with me, accompanied by his secretary." I am your majesty's most humble servant and brother, HENRY.""Tell the castellan that I grant him permission to show the house and park to the stranger; he shall take care not to come in my way, so that I shall be obliged to meet him. Tell this aside, that you may not be overheard. Hasten, for they have already been waiting some time."The king walked again to the window, and, hidden by the curtain, peeped out. "So, this is Herr Goethe, is it? What assurance! There he stands, sketching the house. What wonderful eyes the man has!
With what a proud, confident manner he looks around! What a brow!
Truly he is a handsome fellow, and Herzberg may be right after all.
That brow betokens thought, and from those eyes there flashes a divine light. But he looks overbearing and proud. Now, I am doubly pleased that I refused Herzberg to have any thing to do with him.
Such presumptive geniuses must be rather kept back; then they feel their power, and strive to bring themselves forward. Yes! I believe that man has a future. He looks like the youthful god Apollo, who may have condescended to descend to earth! He shall not entrap me with his beautiful head. If he is the man who makes good and bad weather in Weimar, he shall learn that rain and sunshine at Sans-Souci do not depend upon him; that the sun and clouds here do not care whether Herr Goethe is in the world or not. For sunshine and storm we depend upon the Great Weather-Maker, to whom we must all bow; evil and good days in Prussia shall emanate from me, so long as I live. Sometimes I succeed in causing a little sunshine," continued the king. "I believe the Prince of Prussia has to-day felt the happy influence of the sun's rays; and while it is dull and lonely at Sans-Souei, may it be brighter and more cheerful at Charlottenburg!
Eh bien! old boy," said the king, stopping, "you are playing the sentimental, and eulogizing your loneliness. Well, well, do not complain.--Oh, come to me, spirits of my friends, and hold converse with me! Voltaire, D'Argens, and my beloved Lord-Marshal Keith! Come to me, departed souls, with the memories of happier days, and hover with thy cheering, sunny influence over the wrinkled brow of old Fritz!"While the lonely king implored the spirits of his friends, to brighten with their presence the quiet, gloomy apartment at Sans-Souci, the sun shone in full splendor at Charlottenburg--the sunshine beaming from the munificence of Frederick. Wilhelmine Enke had passed the whole day in admiring the beautiful and tasteful arrangement of the villa. Every piece of furniture, every ornament, she examined attentively--all filled her with delight. The prince, who accompanied her from room to room, listened to her outbursts of pleasure, rejoicing.
"I wish that I could often prepare such happiness for you, dearest, for my heart is twice gladdened to see your beaming face.""Reflected from your own. You are my good genius upon earth. You have caused the poor, neglected child to become the rich and happy woman. To you I owe this home, this foot of earth, which I can call my own. Here blossom the flowers for me--here I am mistress, and those who enter must come as my guests, and honor me. All this I owe to you.""Not to me," said the prince, smiling; "I only gave to you what was given to me! To the king belong your thanks. Harsh in words, but gentle in deeds, he has given you this refuge, freeing you from the slavery of poverty, from the sorrow of being homeless. But tell it not, Wilhelmine. The king would be angry if it were known that he not only tolerated but showed great generosity to you. It is a secret that I ought not even to disclose to you. I could not receive your thanks, for I have not deserved them. From the king comes your good fortune, not from me. The day will come when I can requite you, when the poor crown prince becomes the rich king. On that day the golden rain shall again shower upon you, never to cease, and, vying with the shower of gold, the brightest sunbeams play continually around you. As king, I will reward your fidelity and love, which you have proved to the poor crown prince, with splendor, power, and riches. Until then rejoice with the little that his grace has accorded you, and await the much that love will one day bring you.
